


The Relative Value Of Honeybees

by loveanddeathandartandtaxes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bees, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/pseuds/loveanddeathandartandtaxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She had you for longer than it usually takes you to figure out humans, and we’re much more complex than bees.”<br/>“Hardly. Bees are in many aspects far superior to humans.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Relative Value Of Honeybees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersweet_art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweet_art/gifts).



"I thought it was megachile centuncularis, but it’s just apis mellifera.”

Sherlock’s voice was disappointed and slightly annoyed, like the bee had purposefully obfuscated its species.

“Are you kidding me? The entire point of this exercise was based on this little girl being centuncularis.”

“Believe me, John, I am just as disappointed as you are.”

Swinging one leg over the branch he sat on, Sherlock turned away from him and the bee and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. John stood where he was on a lower branch, wondering if he was allowed to start figuring out how to get down.

“I bet. She had you for longer than it usually takes you to figure out humans, and we’re much more complex than bees.”

“Hardly. Bees are in many aspects far superior to humans.”

“Then what’s wrong with being apis mellifera?”

“I’m sure it suits her just fine, but the Leafcutter bee - I find them far more interesting. They’re solitary bees; she doesn’t need to communicate or co-operate with anybody. She just does her work.”

A soft, fond look had come over what he could see of Sherlock’s face, and John let himself gaze at his friend while he thought of a reply.

“Like you, then,” he prompted gently, after a while.

“Of course. I thought that was clear.”

“Not to me, Sherlock. You don’t really think you don’t have a hive?”

Sherlock sniffed haughtily.

“I have never gotten along with others.”

“We both know that’s not quite true, don’t we. Look at the family you’ve got - Mrs Hudson, Greg, Molly… Your parents, your brother.” Sherlock made a face of distaste, which John knew now was more habit than anything, so he continued. “Honeybees work just as hard as Leafcutters, I bet, but they have a hive to look after them as well. Even the queen, a singular character in the hive, has all those workers helping her.”

As he swung himself far too casually to stand more at a level with John, Sherlock muttered, “I just wanted… to be a solitary bee.”

John couldn’t be sure if he’d said “her” in there or not. He supposed it didn’t matter.

“What’s wrong with being apis mellifera?” he asked again, reaching out to brush the back of Sherlock’s hand with his knuckles. Sherlock inhaled sharply at the touch.

“What about you, John? You didn’t mention yourself in - in my… hive.”

There was nothing for it but to laugh merrily.

“I thought you hated when I stated the obvious.”

Sherlock flushed.

“This sort of thing has never been obvious to me.”

John slipped his hand into Sherlock’s, feeling the long fingers wrap tight around his own. 

“The sort of thing where we can communicate without language? The sort of thing where we both work day in, day out, in order to get a small drop of sweetness from a solved case? The sort of thing where we would die to protect each other?”

“I’ve done that,” Sherlock croaked, finding John’s free hand with his own on the far side of the trunk. “It was awful.”

“I would do it for real, if it meant your life,” John admitted. A worried crinkle appeared between Sherlock’s brows, and his mouth curved downwards.

They didn’t say anything much as they descended to ground level. Brushing the seat of his pants off, Sherlock retrieved his coat from its resting place on a mossy boulder. John took Sherlock’s arm and let him lead the way back to the inn.

“You’re my honeybee,” he said lightly, and Sherlock stumbled over his own feet, making John grab at him before he fell. 

“You’re not joking,” he said incredulously.

“No,” John replied. “I’m really not.”

Sherlock took his hand again, and his shoulder, and John reached up to grasp the lapel of his coat. 

“I’ve wanted this for years,” Sherlock murmured, touching their foreheads together.

“No more waiting,” John assured him, and tipped his face up to kiss him.


End file.
